


venus fly trap

by swiiftly



Category: EverymanHYBRID, Saw (Movies), Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiiftly/pseuds/swiiftly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan Jennings, meet Saw II.</p>
            </blockquote>





	venus fly trap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mondegreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mondegreen/gifts).



> This was lovingly written for my boyfriend in California, who has a Saw problem.
> 
> The Saw trap featured here is [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6w41uDYWSI). 
> 
> TURN BACK NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT SOMEONE GOUGING THEIR OWN EYE OUT. :D?

"Behind my fucking _eye_?" Evan lets out a short laugh, because _seriously_  this is some fucked up shit. He's shaking from the inside out but he can't feel a thing, nerves on hold, and he is so fucking thankful for his overachieving pain endorphins right now. One minute.

"Okay okay okay, fuck, do I get a blade or does the fucker want me to claw out my own eye?" And then he spots it - a metal glint under the table, and he's laughing again because of course it's his own fucking knife, the small one he carries with him everywhere. "You're a real joker, creepy puppet dude, fuck you."

There's a mirror - oh, how convenient, he gets to watch himself carve into his own eye socket, thanks Jigsaw - and he pulls it down to the floor with him. "No fucking way am I standing up for this," he mutters, grasping the knife and glaring into his reflection. Thick stripes of still-wet blood trail from his fucked up eye, like some kind of demented face paint, a supervillain mask, religious miracle.

( _IT'S A GOOD LOOK ON YOU, KID. IF ONLY STEPH WERE HERE, I'M SURE SHE'D APPRECIATE IT TOO._ )

He's sitting cross legged on the floor and he still feels off balance, the weight of the trap around his neck fucking up his center of gravity. He's trying to hold his hand still, knife poised in front of his face, but his vision swims and and he has to close his eyes, just for a moment.

( _YOU JUST LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED ME TO TAKE OVER, I'M PRETTY GOOD AT THIS SORT OF THING, IF YOU HADN'T NOTICED._ )

His eyes snap open again and he inhales once, twice, three times, and makes the mistake of glancing at the clock. "Fucking shit, okay, I'm just gonna--" and he cuts himself off, literally, jabbing the knife up and in, straight behind his eye in what he hopes is the quickest route to severing the optic nerve.

It is.

( _WELL DONE, MR. JENNINGS, EVEN I'M IMPRESSED. NO HESITATION, GOING RIGHT FOR THE KILL, THAT'S A QUALITY I LIKE IN MY ASSOCIATES._ )

He barely has time to recognize how fucking absurd it is that he just watched his own eye roll across a dirty floor in front of him. There's nothing but noise inside his head, sharp and heavy and screeching, he can't hear whatever actual sounds he's making as he drops the knife and dips two fingers into his suddenly empty eye socket.

( _THAT'S IT, THAT'S THE SPOT, EASY NOW, DON'T WANNA DO MORE DAMAGE TO YOUR PRETTY LITTLE FACE THAN WHAT'S STRICTLY NECESSARY._ )

Fingers catch on metal and he tugs, hard, too hard, because the key clatters to the floor as his fingers spasm, and maybe his body is starting to object to this kind of willing mutilation after all. He didn't tend to think his body objected to much of anything these days.

Then it goes dark, a familiar kind of hazy dark, and-- _fuck_ that little bitch, HABIT took him over, and he can almost breathe again, momentarily detached, and fuck it's going to hurt worse when HABIT gives him back his body.

And then it's over, after just a second, and he chokes out a scream at the wave of sensation that hits him like a brick wall, a brick wall covered in fucking _nails_ , and he spits out the blood that pools immediately into his open mouth.

( _OOPS. SORRY ABOUT THAT._ )

The key's in his hand again, though, that's HABIT's doing, and he doesn't have any more time to be pissed. He scrambles for the lock, fingers white with how hard he's clutching the key, but he gets it in the keyhole right away, somehow, and it's surprisingly easy how quickly the lock catches.

The trap falls.

Evan falls.

His laugh is a little bit him, a little bit HABIT, and for once he's completely fucking okay with that.


End file.
